Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

K aden sat on the edge of his bed, watching the lass as she slept. She was firmly asleep. She had been for at least half an hour now, and strangely, Kaden hadn't been able to drag himself away from her side. He had tried to right some of his room, but then gave up, fearing he would make too much noise and returned to the bed to watch her.

Now she was asleep, looking completely at peace, he had time to stare at her, to examine those features in the apricot candlelight. She had to be a little younger than him, by a handful of years perhaps. She was pretty, and there was something in her features that made him wonder if they had met before.

I would remember her. I ken it.

An errant thought crossed his mind as to whether he had once met a relative of hers. He couldn't dwell on this thought for long though. His eyes were tracing that full bottom lip, remembering how they had kissed earlier that night.

Either she was an excellent actress, or she had indeed wanted to kiss him back. Not many lasses could kiss like that.

A knock at the door caught his attention.

Kaden checked it hadn't woken her up before he stood and moved toward the door, unlocking it and stepping outside.

Marcus stood before him, his red hair slightly mussed. Kaden felt an envy tingling in his gut. Evidently, Marcus had had a good night with whomever he had left that inn with.

"What's happened?" Marcus asked, but Kaden pressed a finger to his lips, urging Marcus to be quiet, then beckoned him to peer into the chamber. They both stared at the figure prostrate on the bed. "Ye bringing me here tae gloat now?" Marcus whispered. "Pretty lass."

"Nay." Kaden took Marcus' shoulder and steered him back through the doorway. He locked the door then beckoned Marcus to follow. "There is much tae tell ye."

As Kaden led the way to his study, he told Marcus everything. How the lass who wouldn't tell him her name had seduced him then knocked him out. By the time he was done revealing her search of the chamber and that he had drugged her in return, they had reached the study, where Kaden lit candles from tinder boxes to keep them company.

"Well, nae yer finest conquest then." Marcus smiled as he took the empty vial from Kaden an examined it. "Nay marks. Nothing identifiable."

"Dara said it was made by a skilled healer. Are there any in town?"

"Nae fer miles. Dara is the most skilled here for some good distance, but this lass of yers may nae be a local."

"She is nae me lass," Kaden reminded Marcus as he started opening his own drawers and searching the desk.

"What are ye doing?" Marcus asked.

"I dinnae really ken. If she was looking for something, I'm wondering what it could be." He continued to search, but there was nothing there he hadn't expected. "She blames me fer something. The question is, what?"

"Personal or political? What sort of vengeance is it?"

"I thought personal." Kaden halted, remembering the passion and steel in her voice. "But it could be both. Either way, she stole her way intae the castle expertly. She is a danger tae the clan if she's a danger tae me."

"Aye." Marcus agreed firmly with a nod as he sat in a chair nearby, still gazing at that vial. "So, ye drugged her?"

"What else was I supposed tae dae? She attacked me and I needed time tae think. I also need her temper tae cool."

"And ye think drugging her will make her cool down?"

Kaden chose not to be riled by these words. He sat in the chair behind his desk, giving up his search.

"What dae ye ken of her?" Marcus asked. "There may be a clue in that."

"A good actress. Steely. Strong. Passionate. Seeking personal vendetta and convinced that I ken what she is blaming me fer. She presumes me guilty of something," he whispered.

"She is cunning too. She has a friend who is an excellent healer." Marcus held up the vial pointedly.

"And she is nay courtesan. She tried tae dress like one, but that is it."

"Then… is she a maid? A serving girl?"

"Nay." Kaden realized how certain he was of this as he answered. He recalled how she had ordered a drink at the bar, how too she had ensnared him. There was something quite formal in her manner. "She played a part tonight."

"How long dae ye reckon until she wakes up?"

"I dinnae ken, but it could be morning. Dara mentioned it was a strong potion."

"Then I suggest we scare her." Marcus sat forward, sudden determination in his eyes. "Dinnae look at me like that."

"She's a lass," Kaden reminded his friend, his voice firm.

"A lass who could have killed ye, Kaden."

"And she didnae."

"Still." Marcus held his hands out, the action encouraging Kaden to have some sense. "Ye want answers? Then talk tae the lass in a way she understands."

"I will nae hurt her."

"What? I would never suggest that." Marcus laughed it off, shaking his head.

"I was worried what yer old mercenary ways were suggesting," Kaden said, laughing too.

"I was never that kind of man," Marcus assured him, then his smile faded. "What I mean is, tie her hands. That's all, just make her believe she is trapped. We'll release her, we just get her tae speak first."

Kaden drummed his fingers on the desk in thought. He didn't much like the plan but admitted it could be the only way to break through the lass' steel.

"Aye, fair enough," he relented, rubbing the sore spot across the back of his head. He prayed it would feel better soon.

"Ye seem tae have a habit of this," Marcus mused, sitting back in his chair again.

"I dinnae think I've ever done this before," Kaden said wryly.

"I mean attracting mad lasses."

"Ha! Mad as a box of frogs." Kaden laughed and Marcus joined in. "Aye, Arabella wasnae the easiest of women, was she?"

"Easy?" Marcus spluttered. "She was mad fer ye. Completely crazy."

"Aye, that was the problem." Kaden put upon a mock shudder to show his fear, and they laughed together some more. "I was glad when her faither and mine agreed to call the betrothal off."

He would have done it. He would have married Arabella if his father had insisted it was for the good of the clan, but Kaden had also made no secret of his relief. She was too much, far too intense. She looked at him as if he were some drug she were addicted to. He couldn't handle that.

"Why was it ended in the end?" Marcus asked, seemingly returning his focus to the vial again.

"Laird Finnian, me faither and I talked about it. Arabella was Laird Finnian's only daughter. He needed an alliance that would offer them security. In short, they needed an alliance that could give them soldiers." Kaden shook his head. "At the time, we could really only offer coin. It was deemed necessary tae end the betrothal. Thank the wee man above." He sank back in his chair, thinking about how close he had come tonight to sleeping with another mad woman.

She had to be crazy, didn't she? Whoever this lass was, she thought him guilty of something, refused to tell him what it was, and yet was convinced her should know what it was that he had done.

"She was wealthy thirsty, wasnae she?" Marcus said in thought.

"Arabella?" Kaden shifted his mind back to their conversation. "Aye, she was, more than any man I had ever met. Her faither was a kind man. The thing that angered me most was her rudeness. I never saw her once thank a maid or a manservant fer helping her. Never saw anything beyond her arrogance."

"Aye, a pleasant lass then," Marcus said with thick sarcasm. "And talking of pleasant lasses, shall we go tae the one sleeping in yer chamber?"

Kaden paused before answering. He didn't like the idea of tying her up, but he had to agree it was the only way. If he ever tied a lass up, it was with consent and only done in the bedchamber. He had to thrust all such thoughts out of his mind as he eventually agreed with Marcus and stood, leaving the study behind.

Elara had a splitting headache. It wasn't helped by the blinding sunlight. Someone had to have pulled back some curtains, for that light was too bright. She turned her head to the side, trying to hide from it, only to find her body didn't move as she wished it too.

She jerked her head up, her eyes shooting wide open as she pushed through the pain in her head.

How the hell did I get here?

She was sat in a chair, well, slumped. Her arms were fastened down to the chair arms with thin rope and a little distance away, Laird Stuart sat at a table, with a man beside him. They hadn't noticed she had woken up. In the morning light streaming through the window, they were sharing food from the table. It took her a minute to realize she recognized the other man. The red-haired man, broad and full build, bore weapons at his belt. He had been drinking with the laird in the inn the night before.

She fought against the ropes, though she was fastened tight. Her movement made both men look at her.

"What have ye done?" she spat, her eyes zeroing in on Laird Stuart.

He grimaced and held his hands open wide, as if it was not his doing.

"Ye drug me? Then ye tie me up? What kind of demon does that?"

"A man defending himself," Laird Stuart said coolly. "Dae ye need a drink? Ye must be parched. Ye have slept fer hours."

She froze in her struggle in the chair.

It's morning. Lydia will be terrified, wondering what has happened tae me.

She suddenly renewed her vigor trying to escape the chair.

"All right, ye dinnae have tae drink, but dinnae dae that. Ye'll end up turning the chair over and hurting yerself," Laird Stuart said casually as his friend simply stared at her.

"Like ye care."

"I made sure ye didnae hit yer head as ye fell last night. Ye have been unconscious in me chamber fer hours and nae come tae any harm. What does that tell ye?" he countered, lifting a cup to his lips and taking a sip.

She tore her gaze away from him, doing her best to wriggle one of her hands out of the ties, though she failed miserably. She didn't want to think about the fact that he was right. He could have done anything to her last night. The power was in his hands now, yet he hadn't. She remembered that when she had become dizzy and fallen, his arms had come up to catch her. She could remember too the feeling of him carrying her to the bed. It was strangely safe. He had leaned over her on the bed and pulled up the fur blankets, as if she was something small, delicate, to be taken care of.

He disgusts me.

"Argh! Let me out," she implored loudly, making the chair wobble in her rage.

"I will dae." Laird Stuart stood and moved toward her, folding his arms. "Just tell me what it is ye accuse me of and why ye are here, then I will free ye."

"Aye, sure ye will," she threw the words at him. "Just as ye are an honorable and dignified man."

"Sarcasm?"

"Is it nae obvious enough!" she snapped. "Ye tied these too tight."

"I am practiced enough. They are tied just right and willnae hurt ye."

She froze, wondering what he meant by that.

He has experience tying someone up in a way that will nae hurt them?

"She's keeping a secret." The red-haired man spoke for the first time.

"Aye, Marcus, she is." Laird Stuart nodded, not once taking his eyes off her.

"Ye must ken." She didn't see why she should have to tell him. He must have been prepared for vengeance. So many had died in that fire, if she and Lydia hadn't come looking for revenge, someone would have someday. "Did ye never think justice would come?"

Laird Stuart narrowed his eyes, staring at her, staying completely silent.

Those stormy eyes weren't helping. She could remember in her sleepy state the night before those stormy orbs as they had hovered over her, pulling up the blanket. The fact there was a gentleness in this enemy of hers at all was gut-wrenching. She wished to despise every bone in his body.

A light tap sounded at the door. Marcus stood from his seat and went to answer it, though Elara noticed he didn't open it wide enough to allow her to be seen. She thought of calling out, shouting for help, then reasoned how poor a plan that would be. Everyone in this castle already followed the orders of Laird Stuart, so she was trapped.

"Aye?" Marcus said to whoever stood on the other side.

"Ye are needed, Marcus," a man's voice answered. "Someone has come calling on the castle. The laird said nae tae let anyone else in if we didnae recognize them."

"Any idea who it is?" Marcus asked.

"A young woman."

Elara stiffened.

Is it possible? Nay, surely nae.

Lydia had stayed at the inn. That was their agreement. She wouldn't risk herself coming here.

"We'll both come tae see who it is," Laird Stuart answered. He nodded at Marcus who left. Before Laird Stuart followed, he walked toward Elara. She sank back in the chair, trying to get as far from him as possible. "When I come back, I will have answers." He glanced at the table. "Ye will also drink something. Ye must have a headache by now." He turned and left the room swiftly.

For a second, Elara didn't fight to get free. She stared after Laird Stuart, baffled how he could tie her up and yet insist that she let him help her, so she didn't have a headache.

"What sort of murderer are ye?" she asked the dead air.